"Tibetans are like gold"

I learned another interesting lesson this past week. Tashi was getting ready to tell me something about his mala (prayer beads), but he pulled out a rather large gold chain from around his neck instead of his beads. When I commented on the chain, because it is the size gangstas, drug dealers and pimps wear in America, he said that he wears it because it is beneficial. It is pure, he said, and it reminds him to be that way in his life. If he is feeling bad about something, or doesn't feel like going to the Jokhang or praying with his beads, he can look at the necklace and it makes him happier, it motivates him be better. He said that whether it is old or new, gold is gold. Tibetans, he said, are like gold.

I started teaching another student this weekend, a 15-year-old high school girl. She does, needless to say, provide quite a different teaching experience than Tashi. This is her winter
vacation, yet she is still taking math, English and Tibetan lessons. Apparently, the time constraints are such that she does not have time to go back and forth between the university and
her home, and thus, I go to her. It makes me a little ncomfortable about teaching when her parents might be home. Anyway, unlike Tashi, who is certainly more mature, she is just like any other 15-year-old, and would rather sing songs, or get me to sing English songs, or play with her hair or mine, than study. So, instead of being able to simply talk and work through things without a plan, as Tashi and I do, she is going to require something more structured. Already, she thinks of me as her friend and wants to go out and do things together. Being eight years her
senior, we honestly don't have much in common, and that would be more than a little awkward, I think.

When I went to her house on Sunday, she insisted that I stay for lunch with her and her sister. I tried to refuse, but unfortunately, "I have other plans" means almost nothing among Tibetans. So, we sat down to eat a ridiculous amount of food. After almost half an hour of eating, I put my bowl down and my student's sister told me I was impolite because I didn't eat enough. Let me tell you, folks, I ate a heck of a lot of food. There was physically no more space, but that also means next to nothing to Tibetans. She didn't seem offended, but was merely stating a fact, I suppose. I simply hadn't eaten enough to satisfy the demands of etiquette.

Anyway, things have been a little chilly. It's in the teens at night and usually barely 40 in the day, sometimes much, much colder. While the weather here is predictable (sunny--every day),
the temperature is not. The heat has been off in the dorm for five days now, so the nights are a bit cold, and the rats are certainly feeling it. They wake me up early in the morning, running around in my ceiling, perhaps digging or chewing, trying to get in. This isn't so encouraging. I'm hoping I don't have to drape my ceiling with steel wool, the only thing they will not eventually chew through. Luckily, they get scared away when I tap my broom on the ceiling.

I have been learning how to make tsampa pancakes. I ran out of white flour the other day and the only thing available was barley flour, so I made a substitution. However, barley flour requires
almost three times as much liquid as regular wheat flour does to make batter. Then, as I discovered this morning, if it is too thin, the regular thinness of pancake batter, it sticks to the pan and refuses to come up. In order to make tsampa pancakes, one must make thick batter, and be ok with either cooking a single pancake for about 8 minutes, or eating pancakes which are sticky in the middle. Other than that, tsampa pancakes actually taste really good, and not at all like regular tsampa. Of course, I'm sure that has to do with the amount of cinnamon I add to the batter.

So, as this week progresses, I look forward to having the opportunity to perfect my tsampa pancake recipe, and gain some patience dealing with a 15-year-old girl. Those are my goals. I
guess we'll see how things turn out next week.